Husband's Frame, Wife's Fierce Justice

Chapter 4

Word Count: 791 | Released on: 04/08/2025

s after Alec left. Her

"Your husband signed the initial paperwork. He li

me pointedly. "Is that

was already building a narrative. The uns

a different chart from behind the clipboard. "This is your actual re

and professional detachment. "This is

pain a constant companion. I remembered telling Alec about it during one of his brief, pre-trial visit

you, Haven. I' ll alw

a j

y savings were gone, spent on lawyers Alec

oice. I had

d ring. "What is it, Ha

said, my voice flat.

ait? You have no idea what I' m dealing with right n

l. Then Alec' s tone changed, becoming gentle and soothing

le I was lying in a hospit

f whatever I thought we had, finally withered and died. The pain in

The feeling was t

laugh that tore from my throat, raw and full of despair. I laughed until my s

il I was comp

urse came in. "Your surgery ha

llmate. My friend. The only person who had my back for three helli

d swore. "Flores, what th

ettes onto my bedside tabl

s was a stra

d?" she asked, lighting

ght about it. I thought about the man I mar

ta. I don' t want him in jail. I want him to lose everything. His career.

tta grinned, blowing a smok

voice gaining strength. "I need a ne

ened. "For you,

. He rushed in, feigning panic, demanding to see my ch

ed him the proced

ashing over his face. He actually look

rom my bed, a d

ce cold. "Pretending to care n

"Haven, that

ed." He tried to explain the falsified report, blaming an o

his. "Did you fire them? Or just give them a stern

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Husband's Frame, Wife's Fierce Justice

Meng Xinyu Modern

“My husband, Alec Craig, was Chicago' s star prosecutor, the man who saved me from a dark past. Or so I thought. He was the man who sent me to prison, framing me for a crime I didn't commit to protect his ex-girlfriend, Catalina. My three years in Joliet Correctional Center were a blur of concrete and gray uniforms. The woman who went in, a successful graphic designer who loved her husband, died in there. When I was finally released, I expected to see him, but he sent an assistant to "cleanse my bad energy." Then I saw them: Alec and Catalina, hosting a "welcome home" party for me, the woman they put behind bars. They paraded me around, forcing me to drink champagne until I bled internally from a perforated ulcer. Alec, ever the devoted protector, rushed to Catalina's side, leaving me bleeding on the floor. He even falsified my medical report, blaming my condition on alcohol. I lay in that hospital bed, the last remnants of hope withering and dying. I couldn't cry. The feeling was too deep for tears. I just laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. I wanted to destroy him. Not jail. I wanted him to lose everything. His career. His reputation. His precious Catalina. I wanted him to feel what I felt.”